in search of a calling
by nanrea
Summary: He was not perfect. He was a failure. So he was flushed from the glass mother. And now he waits for a calling. For release. Feat. Rana Thanoptis and the tank bred krogan who helps you out on Korlus


He stood for some time after the woman and her companions left, gazing down the passage they had disappeared into, waiting. Waiting. What he was waiting for was unclear, but for now, there was no one shooting at him. The calm was. Odd. He itched in his head, wanting. Wanting something. The woman to come back and give him a purpose, perhaps. Give him the call. The call he was waiting for. He did not hear it before, but if she came back, maybe he would hear it then.

For now, there was nothing. Not even the shooting that had followed him and gave him purpose for the past seven night cycles. Nothing.

Except the harsh breathing of the asari running up the ramp before him. He raised his shotgun, but before he could get a shot off she hit him with a stasis field and he was held still.

"Wait," she said, gasping for breath. "Wait." And he recognized her.

It was not the Voice. That voice was male, told him great tales of Krogan victories. Krogan failures. His failure. It was not the tank mother, she never had a voice, she simply held him.

But the asari was familiar. A foggy third figure rose in his memories, neither the voice of the father or the presence of the tank mother. As the asari's shaky stasis field faded, he waited as she asked, chasing down this memory.

The asari continued to pant, leaning over with her hands clenched to her side. "Wait," she said again, though he already waited. He had been waiting all along.

He considered, looking at this asari. The Voice and the Tank fed him information: soft, no more than a finger's length to sever the spine. Biotics a concern. He lacked the nodes for biotic generation himself. It was rare, the tank whispered. Of all the thousands Okeer had offered, of all the thousands he had sacrificed, few had been Battlemasters: few had been biotics. The tank whispered this to him, even now. Knowledge buried, unneeded because he was a failure, sent to wait.

But now, he knew: krogan biotics were rare. If biotics would make the krogan stronger, then more would be biotic. Thus, biotics do not make the krogan stronger. Okeer only sought that which made the krogan stronger. None of his perfect krogan would be biotic, even the failures.

The asari before him was weak, inferior, the tank voice said. But she was familiar. So he waited.

He waited to see what her call would be. If it were the call he was waiting for.

"You're not crazy," she gasped, a question or a statement he could not say. "You- you're not gonna shoot me?"

"You asked me to wait," he said. "So I wait, fleshy thing. Asari." He paused, considering. "You are different from those who came before. You are familiar to me. I do not know why. So I wait."

"Familiar?" Her eyes, dark in her pale blue face, widened, then narrowed. "Do you remember me from the tank? I- I helped Okeer design you- how much were you aware of in the tank? I wouldn't have thought-"

He made a sharp gesture, which stopped her words. Made her shrink back. Afraid. "I don't know," he said. "You are not the Voice. You are not the tank. I do not know who you are, only that you are familiar." He growled, deep in his throat. "You are not like the other, the human woman who came through before. She could command, and I would follow, if I were called to. You. I do not think you could command as she could. But you too, make me speak."

She stared all through his speech, her eyes in her asari face growing impossibly wider. "The human woman from before?" she eventually squeaked out. "You mean Shepard? She came through here and didn't kill you?"

"Shepard," he repeated. "No. She spoke. I answered. I moved the heavy thing out of her way, and she went on. I stayed here. I wait."

"For what?" she asked. "Shepard to blow this whole place to hell?"

"I wait to be called," he answered placidly. "You fleshy things ask so many questions. The voice in the tank said I failed, so I must wait until I am released." 

The asari seemed . . . irritated. "What if I called? What if I told you to come with me, help me fight off all these damn Blue Suns until we found our way off this stupid rock? Would you come?"

He stared. "You are not the voice."

"No, but I helped make you!" She waved her skinny arms. "I helped design you, I helped develop the voice you heard in the tank! That should count for something!"

He blinked, eyes hidden behind his mask. "But I am a failure. The voice said so."

The asari seemed to overcome her fear of him and stomped close to him, leaning down a little to get in his face. "I don't know what stupid parameters Okeer was going with when he declared all you failures, because you're not! You and all your little psycho brothers are as perfectly Krogan as science can get you!" She grabbed the sides of his helmet, and he let her, too surprised to raise his shotgun and shoot her as his teaching screamed at him to do. "So I'm telling you, your calling NOW is to HELP ME off of Korlus and back to Asari Space!"

She let go abruptly and stumbled back, slightly, looking suddenly wide eyed and scared again. He contemplated. The asari was familiar. She said he was no failure. She called for him. Perhaps, this was the signal he was waiting for. He did not know.

But waiting. Waiting, after meeting Shepard, meeting this asari. He no longer wished to wait.

"Alright," he said. "I will follow you."


End file.
